The House on Stone's Throw Island

by Dan Poblocki

  The kitchen was industrial looking. Large windows opened out on a clearing. On bright days, warm light must flood the room. Now, flickering fluorescents illuminated the steel appliances, making the place appear clinically sterile.

  Beatrice Gagnon stood at a wooden island in the center of the room. She was chopping up vegetables with a large knife and then tossing them into a wide yellow ceramic bowl. At the sink behind her, Charlie was rinsing utensils. “Do we have enough mustard?” he asked over his shoulder. “If not, I’ll radio Sonny to bring some along tomorrow.”

  “The radio’s still not working, hon, but I’m sure we’re just fine with our amount of mustard. I really think you overestimate people’s love of that condiment.” Beatrice glanced up as Eli and Josie came closer. “Oh. Hello there.”

  Charlie turned around, water dripping from his fingertips and splashing on the white tiled floor. “Lunch is almost ready. Salad and sandwiches. Build your own. You kids hungry?”

  “Yeah,” said Eli. “I could eat, like, a whole … head of lettuce.”

  Josie squinted at him quizzically and then nodded in nervous agreement. “He really likes salad.”

  “Good,” said Beatrice, returning her knife to the celery stalk in front of her. “I’m glad to see you two have become better acquainted.”

  “Totally,” said Josie. “We’ve already taken a little stroll around the island.”

  “Have you really?” Charlie asked. “See anything interesting?”

  “You could say that,” Eli answered.

  Beatrice’s knife rattled against the cutting board; a rapid-fire echo flitted around the room.

  “We walked the trail through the woods,” said Josie, “and we found that weird building up on the cliff across the island.”

  The caretakers both tensed before turning to look at each other. Charlie smacked his lips nervously before saying, “Yeah, it’s … a little dangerous out there. The ground’s unstable. I meant to put up a sign. Do not enter. Something like that.” Eli and Josie examined the floor. “You went in, didn’t you?”

  “Oh, well, not really,” said Eli. “I mean, we peeked.”

  Charlie knitted his brow.

  “We didn’t know it might be dangerous,” said Josie, her voice firmer than Eli’s. “But we did want to ask you about the building.”

  “About this house too,” Eli spoke up. He expected the care-takers to have some reaction to that. But their faces remained strangely stonelike. “I mean … Josie and I have both experienced some weird things in the past few hours. You know, since we got off the ferry.”

  “Weird things?” Beatrice asked, her expression clouded. She used the edge of the knife to scoop the chopped celery into her hand and then dropped it into the bowl. “You’re not still harping on those cannibalism tales, are you? Your father —”

  “No, ma’am,” Eli said quickly, his face flushing.

  “Then, what? What weird things?”

  Josie glanced at Eli. For a moment, neither of them spoke. They didn’t know where to start.

  ELI WENT THROUGH everything that had happened down at the ruined building, admitting to exploring the strange cavern. Charlie and Beatrice listened, emotions hidden behind masks of indifference, as Eli told them about the frightening sounds, the slamming door, the rattling chain, and the disembodied whisper of the word Hilfe. Josie chimed in, providing a translation in case they needed it. Finally, Eli mentioned the corroded button he’d pulled from the edge of the deep crevice in the corner of the cavern. He even told them about the wicked symbol that decorated it.

  At this, the couple’s eyes finally went wide. “And you still have this button?” Beatrice asked.

  Eli’s gaze fell to the floor. “Well, no. In all the commotion, I dropped it. It fell into the crevice.”

  “Shame,” said Charlie, almost wistfully. “I would have liked to have seen —”

  “The island has quite a history,” Beatrice interrupted. “Much of it remains a mystery. At least to the two of us.”

  “But you’ve lived here for so long,” said Josie. “You must know something.”

  Beatrice bit at the inside of her cheek for a moment, then clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “I can tell you that the building you stumbled upon is an old fort from the time of the American Revolution,” she said wearily, as if this was a story she’d shared more times than she cared to remember. “That much I know is true. I can also tell you that when the wind picks up and you’re standing inside those walls, you might feel like God himself is talking to you.”

  “God?”

  Beatrice smiled. “Let’s just say, I’ve heard strange things down there too. And though at first I convinced myself otherwise, I’m certain now that all it’s ever been is the wind blowing through the nooks and crannies of what’s left of that structure.”

  “We thought it was the wind too, at first,” Eli said.

  “What else could it have been?”

  The four stared at one another in silence for a moment. Though he had a few theories, Eli kept his mouth shut.

  “And the wailing?” Josie asked.

  Charlie laughed. “You’re from New York City, aren’t you?”

  Josie nodded. “Staten Island.”

  “Then you probably haven’t heard a herd of seals barking to one another, have you?”

  “Seals?” Josie shook her head, confused.

  “We’ve got quite a few of ’em in these waters. They eat our fish and bask on the rocks at low tide. I’ll bet you a million smackers that what you heard was some sort of mating call. That or a great big fight between a couple of the alpha boys. Their cries can echo up through the sea caves below the fort.”

  “Seals,” Eli said to himself, trying to remember the feeling he’d gotten down there in the darkness. Could the answer have been as simple as that? Could the wind whipping through that tunnel have slammed that door open and closed so madly? “But it sounded so much more …” More what? Terrifying? Dangerous? He changed direction. “The fort. It was built by Americans?”

  “That’s what they say,” Charlie answered.

  “Any chance people used the fort later on?”

  “Later on?”

  “It’s just … That button I found. I thought maybe the Germans could have landed here. Maybe the Americans used the fort during World War II?”

  “Well, if they did, you won’t find it in any history book,” said Charlie. “I remember reading that the East Coast was on high alert for the possibility of an attack. In fact, I believe some U-boats were spotted off the coast of New Jersey. Fired on a tanker. Isn’t that right?” He glanced at Beatrice. She shrugged. “I think the US naval fleet was stationed around the islands off Portland, to our west. The defenses there were high. But out here …” Charlie sniffed. “What would anyone have wanted with old Stone’s Throw?”

  Eli sighed. He’d been totally convinced that the button with the symbol on it had been connected to the German word spoken by that strange voice. Hilfe. The amused look on the caretakers’ faces told him that he’d been wrong. However the button had gotten into the cave, it must have been a coincidence.

  Josie took a deep breath and then released it slowly. “Mr. Gagnon,” she said, “down at the wharf we heard you say that you and your wife were the only ones on the island this morning.”

  Eli glanced at Josie, his heart suddenly pounding. He’d almost forgotten that there’d been more than one big question they needed answered.

  Charlie crossed his arms and leaned back against the sink. “That’s right.”

  Josie licked her lips and swallowed something dry down her throat. “When I was lying on the bed in my room earlier, a girl came through the door.”

  Beatrice turned quickly to look at her husband. Charlie’s eyes flashed. Anger? Embarrassment?

  But the caretakers remained silent, and Josie went on. “She had short brown hair, and she was wearing this soaking wet dress. Peach colored. Stained with mud. She might
have been a couple years older than Eli and me. She wouldn’t answer when I asked her who she was or if she was okay. She only stood there silently for a moment and then dashed into the closet. When I opened the door to look in on her later, she was gone.”

  “Charlie,” said Beatrice, “there was no one else on Sonny’s boat this morning, was there?”

  “Nope,” said Charlie. “As far as I know, just the seven from the family. Plus Margo and Gregory.”

  Beatrice glanced at Josie, a bemused look smeared like a smile across her jaw. “Well, that sounds … impossible. There’s no girl in this house. Other than you, my dear.”

  “But I saw her,” said Josie. “She wasn’t like the … the wind down at the fort. She was actually there.”

  “Then where did she go?” Charlie asked, turning back to the sink, flipping the faucet back on. Water rushed from the pipes and splashed into the basin, filling the kitchen with white noise.

  “That’s what I was hoping you might know.”

  “I haven’t noticed a mud-covered girl running around this house,” he said. “Have you, Beatrice?”

  “I …” Beatrice began, but when Charlie flicked water from his fingers at her, she jumped. Then she snickered nervously. “No, of course not.” She cocked her head and said, “You say you were lying down, Jodie? Maybe it was a waking dream. I’ve had that happen to me before.”

  “My name is Josie,” she answered firmly. “Josephine, actually. And it wasn’t a dream. I’m sure of it.”

  Beatrice grasped the handle of the knife tightly. “If there were someone else on this island, just who do you imagine it would be?” Josie blinked at the woman, totally shut down by her change in tone. “Really. I’d like to know your thoughts. Who is this girl?” Eli watched Josie bite her lip. Silence thrummed in the room. Beatrice squinted at them and lowered her voice. “Maybe my husband and I have a secret daughter whom we cannot control.” Eli couldn’t tell if she was teasing or not. “Maybe she escaped from the fortress where we’ve been keeping her prisoner.” The woman raised an eyebrow, sharp as a blade. “Maybe the girl is starving and she’s spent the morning sorting out which of you might make the best meal.” She slammed the tip of the knife into the cutting board and smiled as Josie and Eli flinched. “What’s wrong? Aren’t these the answers you’re imagining? Isn’t this what you wanted to hear?”

  Eli held his breath. He hadn’t expected the conversation to take this turn. “Maybe we should go.” He hooked Josie’s arm with his own and pulled her toward the door behind them.

  “Wait.” When the two turned back to the caretakers, they were surprised to find Beatrice’s face red, looking almost regretful. “I’m sorry,” she said, her breath heavy. “It’s just … My husband and I only want everyone here to have a lovely weekend. Isn’t that right, Charlie?” Despite the lift at the sides of the older woman’s mouth, now there was a hardness in her eyes. “No more questions, okay?” She turned her gaze to the space behind them. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to upset your parents, would you, Eli?”

  A pair of heavy hands fell on Eli’s shoulders. “Upset your parents?” said his father, before spinning him around. Eli looked up. Otis glared down at him. “Upset us how?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing!” Beatrice called out, full of celebration and cheer. “We were just chatting about our house’s mysterious history. You’ve got a couple of sleuths in your party, Mr. Barker.”

  Otis’s eyelids slivered, and Eli tried to shrink away. His father clenched harder at his shoulders. “What have you been up to?”

  “Please, Mr. Barker,” said Beatrice, louder this time, more chipper. “Eli’s done nothing wrong. I was just … telling stories.” She glanced between Josie and Eli, wearing a knowing look, a silent alarm of warning. “Now, would you all do me a favor and ask the group to join us in the dining room? Lunch is just about ready.”

  Otis stared at Eli for a few more seconds. If he noticed the nick on Eli’s chin, he didn’t mention it. Then he smiled at Beatrice. “No problem. Everyone is real hungry.”

  THE MEAL WAS a light, casual affair. The group grabbed plates of food from the dining room table and then sectioned off, wandering around the ground floor of the house, examining the myriad artworks hanging on the walls and taking in the views of the blustering ocean through the towering windows.

  Eli and Josie made their way outside to the front garden. They sat in the grass near the fountain, eating in silence as the breeze rustled the purple flowers around them. Every time Eli swallowed a bite of his sandwich, he fought to keep it down. A lump kept coming back up, and his eyes stung. But he would not cry in front of Josie. He wouldn’t cry at all, not even alone, not this weekend, if he could help it.

  “Your dad’s kind of scary,” Josie said after a few minutes, as if reading his mind.

  Eli picked at his teeth, pretending he didn’t hear. “What do you think the caretakers were up to back there?”

  “Making lunch?”

  He shook his head. “They’re hiding something. Obviously.”

  Josie stared at the grass between her boots and shrugged.

  “Did you not notice she was trying to terrify us?” Eli prodded.

  “Oh, I noticed. Do you think maybe there was some truth about the girl being their daughter?”

  “I don’t know,” said Eli, wishing he could force away the blush from his cheeks.

  Josie waved her hands, as if to change the conversation. “We’re only here for a few days. This is nothing to get worked up about.”

  To Eli, the possibility of a strange girl who no one wanted to talk about entering Josie’s room without her permission actually did seem like something to get worked up about. He lowered his head and plucked at the lawn. “I just didn’t like the way that lady talked to me is all.”

  Josie sighed. “Maybe we should forget about all this stuff for now. Who knows? Maybe it was all just wind and seals and dreams.”

  They talked about other things. Josie told Eli about her friend Lisa, about the races they had held during afternoons over the summer: one at a time around the block, clocking in faster and faster as the weeks went by. How afterward, they’d reward themselves with vanilla soft-serve cones from the McDonald’s on the corner. Eli shared the tale of his graphic novel, the one he was writing with Shane Mullins, about the invisible dolphin with supersonic psychic abilities that lives in a grimy aboveground pool behind an abandoned house in Florida and solves mysteries with the only three human kids in the neighborhood who know she exists. Josie laughed, but in a good way, as if she understood that it was supposed to be silly. It was nice. When he’d mentioned the project to Aimee, she’d rolled her eyes and scoffed.

  “How’d you come up with that?” Josie asked.

  “Sleepovers at Shane’s house. Late at night we get into giggling fits. I guess we were trying to one-up each other with the most ridiculous ideas that popped into our heads. That one stuck. I dunno why.”

  “I can’t wait to read it.”

  “It’ll be a while,” said Eli, slumping his shoulders. “Neither of us can draw.”

  “But won’t that make it even funnier?” Josie smiled. “This crazy story with terrible illustrations? I think you guys could work it out.”

  “Thanks,” said Eli. “That … means a lot. We’re gonna try this fall. For real. We’ve got big plans.”

  “I think it’s cool to be passionate about something you’re doing just for yourself. Not for a teacher. Not for your parents. Just for you. You and your friend. No matter what it is. A graphic novel. Singing in the shower. Running around the block as fast as you can.”

  Eli nodded, realizing that the lump had gone from his esophagus. His eyes were wide and clear. Empty of that stinging sensation he’d felt when he’d first sat down in the grass.

  “Yeah. So I guess we’re both pretty cool, right?” he said, wrinkling his nose, pulling up his upper lip into a grotesque face that he usually reserved for his time alone with Shane.

&nb
sp; Thankfully, Josie laughed again. “Oh, good,” she said, as if to herself. “My new brother-in-law is an idiot.”

  “Brother-in-law!” he said and then broke into giggles.

  Behind them, the front door squealed as it opened. Otis stepped out onto the marble landing. It took a moment for him to notice them sitting by the fountain.

  Eli shrunk back, as if he might be able to hide. Then, to his surprise, Otis waved. “Going fishing,” Otis called out. “You two want in?”

  Bruno and Aimee appeared in the doorway behind him. Aimee held two fishing poles and a bag filled with leftover bread from lunch. Bait. Bruno carried a small plastic tackle box. Charlie must have given them supplies.

  “Not really,” Eli said, loud enough only for Josie to hear.

  Josie ignored him. Standing, she tugged his wrist. “Come on. It’ll be a good distraction. For everyone.”

  Eli looked out at the water. The waves were coming in heavy and harsh now. Surf splashed high above the wharf. He’d be surprised if any of them caught seaweed, never mind a fish.

  THE CARETAKERS’ APARTMENT was a trio of small rooms just off the kitchen, separate from the grandeur of the mansion, sparsely furnished but elegant in its simplicity.

  Standing by the cupola window in the den, Margo Lintel worried about the possibility of rain. Every bride wished for fair skies. But Margo was fearful of much more than the weather’s effect on the wedding.

  Gregory Elliott bent over a rickety wooden desk, on top of which sat a shortwave radio. He fiddled with its knobs, searching for any working frequency. Currently, the old speaker was only emitting brief bursts of static.

  For a moment, Margo imagined that life here must be pleasant, free from the stresses of the mainland, but then she recalled the surreal experiences she’d had since arriving on the island, and she knew, without doubt, that she would not last one night alone on Stone’s Throw Island. “Anything yet?” she asked Gregory, trying to swallow the nervous squeak in her voice back down into her chest.